


I Wanna Be Your Dog

by kayliemalinza



Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Polyamory, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-09-08
Updated: 2002-09-08
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayliemalinza/pseuds/kayliemalinza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Song fic for Iggy Pop's <i>Now I Wanna (Be Your Dog)</i>. Brian POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna Be Your Dog

Publicity had never been so boring before. I like to see my fans, see the adoration in their eyes. I feed on it. But lately my diet’s consisted of something else, and he wasn’t there today. I had last seen him this morning, locking the bathroom door and cursing behind it. I know there was no way I could’ve convinced him to come. It hurt. 

The hallway is dark. It’s nearly midnight, after all. I see a crack of light under his door, and walk past it. My own room is at the end of the hall. Maybe it’s empty; I don’t know where Mandy is. I hope she’s not ignoring me because of Curt. I love her too; I need her to love me. I need everyone to love me. I think he loves me. 

Behind me, a door opens. My silhouette grows before me in a swath of yellow light. I turn. He’s leaning against the doorway, with casual intensity.

“Have fun?” he asks. Is he sneering? I don’t know. 

“Yeah,” I reply. “The tops.” He smirks, but his eyes are warm. I don’t know what he’s thinking. “What did you do today?” I ask. He shrugs, bounces a little.

“Drank. Worked on a song. Missed you.” I smile at that, but I don’t know if he means it. Why wouldn’t he mean it? I’m beautiful. But he stayed home.

“You didn’t want to be with me earlier,” I say.

“I didn’t want to be with _Jerry_ ,” he says. A muttered obscenity under his breath, an expression of disgust. I turn away. I won’t deal with him if he’s going to be difficult.

“Hey,” he calls to me. I face him, slightly annoyed. He cocks his head toward his room.

“Stay with me,” he says. I decline, motioning to the papers under my arm. He is not deterred. “You can do that in here. I won’t distract you.” He grins. I go near him, a tentative hand brushing his. Maybe I can smile. He wants me near him. 

 

_So messed up, I want you here._

_In my room, I want you here._

 

As I settle myself on the couch, I watch him. He bounces over to the bed, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and a book. I forget he reads. He sees me watching him, and bends down to give me a sudden, chaste kiss. I smile at him, heart beating like a butterfly. I remember that he is Curt Wild. I am in love with Curt Wild, an incredibly talented and attractive rock star. And he loves me. 

He plops down on the carpet, wiggling up against the couch. He takes a swig of whiskey.

“There’s a chair right over there,” I say with amusement. He opens the book and winks at me.

“I like it here,” he says. I know that. He always lies there. 

 

_Now we’re gonna be face to face._

_And I’ll lay right down in my favorite place._

 

I flip through the papers, making marks here and there. Jerry asked that I look over the tour schedule for next month. Then there’s different interviews to choose between, stuff like that. Curt’s being good. He’s done nothing to distract me, besides neglecting to wear a shirt. I hear the quiet sounds of his movement; the rustling of pages, the trickle of liquid as he takes a drink. Somehow, just by being here, he shows that he loves me.

 

_Now I wanna be your dog._

_Now I wanna be your dog._

_Now I wanna be your dog._

_Come on_

 

I’ve given up on working. I’m staring into space, thinking. I don’t get to do this often. Usually that’s out of choice; I’ve failed too many times. Some things I’ve done have been humiliating. I don’t want to think about that. But at this point in my life, it seems I’ve got everything: thousands of adoring fans, a beautiful wife, and a wonderful lover. Everyone loves me now. I don’t want to lose that. I yawn and stretch a little. Everything’s quiet, except for one small sound. I grin. If that sound is what I think it is, this means I’ve won a debate we’ve been having for nearly a month. I carefully lean over to watch the man on the floor beside me. I’m right. He’s sleeping. 

 

_Now I wanna close my eyes._

_Now I wanna close my mind._

 

His chest rises and falls slowly, his pale skin given color by the lamplight. I gently lower my hand to his side, hoping not to wake him. I can feel the muscle rippling beneath my hand. This is a silly idea, but somehow it seems appropriate. Slowly, I stroke him from shoulder to hip. Perhaps if I scratched his belly his feet would kick. I know I’m smiling. He stirs in sleep, his ribs bucking under my hand. But he stretches toward my touch, craving more of it. I wonder what he’s dreaming of. 

 

_Now I wanna feel your hand._

_And lose my heart on the burnin’ sand._

 

I can tell he’s waking up, so I pull my arm back up. But he knows what I’ve been doing. He sits up and watches me for a moment. Then, with that small smile of his, he puts his chin on my chest. He nuzzles my hand, asking to be petted. I oblige, even scratching behind the ears a little. He’s such a sensualist. I’m smiling again.

“You snore,” I say. He grins and kisses me.

 

_Now I wanna be your dog._

_Now I wanna be your dog._

_Now I wanna be your dog._

_Come on_


End file.
